


Lethe's Ivy

by winternacht



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: M/M, Memory Alteration, Orgasm Control, Other, Plant sex, Restraints, Sex Pollen, Tentacles, Unwilling Arousal, Voyeurism, non-consensual use of aphrodisiacs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-29
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2020-02-09 12:32:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18638188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/winternacht/pseuds/winternacht
Summary: Tim receives a gift that brings back some unwanted memories.





	Lethe's Ivy

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spacehopper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehopper/gifts).



> Sorry for the delay!

One week. That was the longest Tim could stand to be away from the Magnus Institute without showing any adverse symptoms. He wished he didn’t have to set foot in the building again, but if he wanted to continue spying on the circus, he would need all the strength he could muster.

And so, as he always did on weekends, in the middle of the night, he snuck back into the building through the tunnels, the easiest way to avoid any company. Even Jon would usually be home then, or wherever it was he went. The only thing he couldn’t avoid was attention. The feeling of being watched the second he climbed through the trapdoor overwhelming him instantly. And yet, it was exactly what he needed. How pathetic his life had become.

There was a plant on his desk. Some kind of ivy, that much Tim knew, its vines spilling in loose curls over the unremarkable pot. It looked fresh, so whoever had put it there must have done so recently. Or perhaps Martin had watered it with the cups of tea he usually wanted to spill down Jon’s throat.

A card was carefully attached to a vine in the middle of the mess of green, and he leaned forward, catching a whiff of the plant’s fresh scent. Pleasant in a way nothing else was in the archives, almost overwhelmingly so, a whirlwind through his mind. He backed away quickly.

He recognized Elias’ neat handwriting, the uniform letters that always made Tim wonder if he used a fucking ruler when writing notes. _A little souvenir._ That was all it said. A souvenir of what, Tim didn’t know, and he didn’t care to ask. After their fight a couple of weeks ago, he didn’t feel like ever seeing the man again. Though with his luck, Elias was probably watching anyway. As if one stalker boss wasn’t enough, no, he had to have two.

Anger welled up inside him, bitter and biting, inviting fantasies of petty revenge. Dumping the pot on Jon’s desk to leave him to deal with the mess in the morning. Or better, simply tossing it against the door of Elias’ office, maybe with a few choice words of his own. Maybe he was still in his office and would see Tim coming so he could throw it in his face.

But in the end, he opted for simply throwing it away. He lifted the pot up, cringing at the feeling of the vines brushing over his exposed wrists, tickling him with their leaves, and walked over to the bin, already emptied for the evening. He tried to find some enjoyment in the dull noise the pot made when it hit the bottom, but the satisfaction was short-lived. Elongated vines remained coiled around his forearms, not pulling but not letting go either as Tim tried to brush them away, his heart sinking in a lake of ice with the realization that they were probably not letting him go any time soon.

Loathe as he was to touch the thing again, he lifted the pot from the bin, trying to ignore how the vines kept crawling up his arms, some of them even beneath his clothes. Just his luck. But Jon kept a letter opener in his desk, and maybe if he got to his office fast enough-

He barely made is past the door before the vines reached his legs and pulled tight, sending him sprawling onto the floor barely allowing him the use of his arms to brace himself against the impact, keeping him out of the office as if it had somehow seen through Tim. The pot shattered with the impact, sending shards all over the floor. Tim tried to twist away from them, surprised at the slack the plant was granting him as he tried to crawl away from it, back to the assistants’ desks. Didn’t Martin have a pair of scissors in one of his drawers? He had to try.

As if it had read his mind, the plant tried to pull him back again, leaving Tim to struggle against its force. His fingertips were nearly making contact with Martin’s desk, so close, just an inch and-

Footsteps. It was the middle of a Saturday night, and there were footsteps, and before Tim could even consider weighing the pros and cons of drawing attention to himself he screamed for help, his pulse hammering against the tendril that was steadily winding itself around his throat.

“I see you’ve received my gift. Are you enjoying it?”

Tim gritted his teeth as he heard Elias’ voice and glared up at him as he approached. “Fuck you.”

Elias simply smiled at that, the smug asshole. He drew up a chair and sat down, barely a meter from Tim. He doubted the plant would let him go far enough to strangle him.

“What a pity. It’s a memento of the lovely night we spent together.”

“Can’t have been that good if I don’t remember it,” Tim spat.

“An unfortunate side-effect, I’m afraid.” Elias smile did not falter in the slightest. “This plant is rather… possessive of memories. But you don’t have to take my word for it, of course.”

Everything turned black for a moment as a vicious headache slammed into his skull.

The Christmas party at the Institute, the first he’d attended. The smiles and small talk, usually something he excelled at, had overwhelmed him, so soon after Danny’s death. And then Elias had found him. The memories passed in a blur – the venue shifting from the party to Elias’ posh apartment, the conversation about Smirke over cheap sparkling wine trickling to meaningless details about their lives over exquisite scotch to silence as Tim pulled Elias closer by his tie to kiss him.

But the memory of Elias cock inside him was crystal clear, the feeling of being stretched open around him, the eagerness to feel him deep inside. All while Elias’ gaze brushed across his body with an almost tangible intensity, soft caresses to his chest, his abs, his cock, and then back up to his lips again, parted as he moaned for more. So desperate to be filled that when the vines started curling around his trembling thighs, all he’d felt was a rush of excitement.

“That’s… that’s a lie,” Tim said, shaking his head to keep the images from dancing before his eyes, though it was too late for that. The memory alone had him painfully hard in his trousers, and each twitch his body gave as he fought against his restraints only pushing his arousal to further heights.

“The only lie here is the one you’re trying to tell yourself,” Elias said. “You’re no stranger to not trusting your memories, are you? But it’s fine. We’ll just have to make some new ones instead.”

The vines around his limbs pulsed as they grew thicker, thick enough to strain against his shirt, painful for a moment before the fabric split at its seams with a sound that echoed through Tim’s ears. It didn’t take much longer for him to be completely bare before Elias while Tim cursed at him. Until a leafless tendril suddenly entered his mouth, squeezing tight around his throat with every movement, robbing him of oxygen until spots flared across his vision before loosening again.

“Last time, you enjoyed this so much,” Elias said as Tim bit down on the plant, feeling the vine split beneath his teeth. For a second, Tim was convinced that blood was the fluid that filled his mouth, and he retched, trying to spit the tendril out. But it couldn’t be blood. It was too sweet, too good, and before he knew it, he found himself sucking down the sweetness eagerly, his mind clouding with pleasure.

He remembered it now, the taste, so much sweeter than the scent had made him believe, the pleasant heaviness of the tendril on his tongue as it fucked his mouth, pouring more of the syrup down his throat.

And when he felt another tendril circling his hole, he found himself unable to resist, his body limp and relaxed, inviting the plant, the _thing_ , to enter him.

He remembered that part quite well now, too. The vine pushing into him as he rode Elias’ cock, stretching him until he sobbed against Elias’ shoulder and kept grinding his hips down to take it deeper, chasing his release.

But this time, he was sure any kind of relief would remain far beyond his reach. Finer tendrils wrapped themselves around his balls and the base of his cock, pulling painfully tight. He was glad that his mouth was too occupied for him to beg.

The vines shifted his position turning him onto his back, his hips raised and his legs spread wide open before Elias. There was an eager glint in his eye as he leaned forward, his gaze piercing through Tim, peeling away layers of resistance, hate and disgust until it reached the centre, the pleasure that burned Tim up from the inside. And when the tendril finally pushed inside, just as thick as Elias’ cock in his memory, he moaned around the intrusion.

Every single thrust wrecked him to his core, leaving him to writhe in his bonds, the air filled with the sound of muffled breaths and rustling leaves. And Elias never looked away, not for a second. Tim didn’t think he could bear it if he did.

A slick tendril started massing his cock, undulating around the hot flesh, and it was too much, his balls twitching helplessly as the vines squeezed ever tighter, denying him release.

The tendril in his mouth slid out, and he took some ragged breaths. All the hatred and anger had been washed away by the cloying liquid, and the only word that passed his lips was _please._

“No, not yet,” Elias said, and Tim’s hips jumped at the rough thrust against his prostate that nearly sent him toppling over the edge, leaving him dangling there, immoveable, his limbs trapped in a web of vines.

“Why?” It was a useless question. He already knew the answer, remembered it so well from when he’d asked last time, but Elias indulged him with the answer nevertheless, his voice rougher than Tim was used to, going straight to his uselessly throbbing cock.

“Because I like watching you, Tim.”

“No,” Tim gasped, trying to forget the heat the words had ignited in him before. “W-what do you want from me?”

“I think we both know what that is.”

Of course Tim knew. His loyalty. Obedience. To put an end to his absences and focus on institute work. To be a busy little bee like Jon.

“Go to hell.”

Elias simply shrugged. “Fine, then.”

Tim clung to the vivid memory of coming over Elias’ stomach, the rush of endorphins, the feeling of fulfilment as he sank down against Elias chest and into his embrace, leaves trailing across his skin in a gentle caress. The memory of being filled in turn, the twitching of Elias’ cock inside him as he pushed himself in deep, extending the mellow pleasure of the afterglow.

He suspected that this was as close to an orgasm as Elias would let him get that night.

*

There was a plant on Tim’s desk, and attached to it was a note. In Elias’ neat script, it simply said.

_Thank you for the memories._

Tim tossed the note into the bin and wondered if he should get rid of the plant too while he was at it. Maybe chuck it against the door to Elias’ office.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Tendrils](https://archiveofourown.org/works/20583635) by [Nevanna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nevanna/pseuds/Nevanna)




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